


Pink is the New Grey

by Geneva



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Facials, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-07 00:26:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1113307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geneva/pseuds/Geneva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hols at the Burrow, and nineteen year old Harry has Ron and wanking on the brain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pink is the New Grey

**Author's Note:**

> Written for hrholidays.livejournal.com inaugural fest. Many thanks to mod kedavranox.  
> Prompt by livejournal user starstruck1986. Minor edits were made before posting to AO3.  
> Original posting (and some great comments!) at http://hrholidays.livejournal.com/3377.html.

Harry wakes, with a start, from a very weird dream involving cheese and toast and Dumbledore's portrait. He turns over towards the wall in Ron's room. 

As he drifts back towards dreamland, he hears a stifled moan from the other bed. Ah, so that's what woke him up. Listening to other boys wank is one of Harry's favorite pastimes, and since they've left Hogwarts he's had no opportunities for months. His cock fills out pleasantly, and he stays still and silent while listening to the telltale shifting of limbs and sheets. 

Ron's breathing speeds up, and Harry takes the risk of sneaking his hand down the front of his pajamas, palming his cock and pinching his foreskin lightly. A bit of pre-come slicks his fingers and he rubs it over his glans, moving only his fingers, resisting the urge to push into his hand, feeling a buzzing in his head and a pulse in his balls. He's enjoying near constant arousal in varying degrees these days. Nineteen has got to be his randiest year yet.

He imagines watching Ron in the other bed behind him. He hears more shifting, and pictures him pulling his pajama bottoms down his thighs. In Harry's mind, Ron's knees tent the covers, spread wide, and Ron uses both his big hands, rolling his balls with one and grasping his (no doubt) hot, hard shaft with the other. The subtle noises from the other side of the room continue on, and Harry's cock fills his grasp, sticky and hard and wanting.

Harry hears a wet noise like Ron licking his fingers, and more shifting and a telltale slick squish. Oh, sweet Merlin, Ron's pulling himself off hard now, obviously beyond caring if Harry can hear, and Harry squeezes his own cock in quick, dry, silent jerks. Ron soon comes hard in the next bed, his spasming body and harsh breath betraying him, and making Harry burn. 

Harry can picture the red flush on Ron's chest, his peaked nipples, Ron's cock pink and sweet and swollen and spent, Ron's breath matching his own. Harry's heart rate speeds up and he bites his lips to keep quiet. His pleasure builds, blood rushes in his ears, and tingling ecstasy spreads from his brains to his toes, as he shoots his orgasm into his fingers. He spreads his come slowly and messily on the head of his cock until he's too sensitive to continue. Oh, Merlin, that was good.

Ron gets up and leaves the room, probably to hit the loo, and Harry takes advantage of the privacy to grab his wand and cast a quick Tergeo spell on his hands and scrotum. His pajamas are still a bit sticky, and after a quick, guilty pause, he pulls them off and stows them between the bed and the wall, leaving him naked under the covers. Ron needn't know, and Harry wants to prolong his secret pleasure. His limbs still pleasantly buzzing, he drifts off before Ron comes back into the room.

~

The sun wakes Harry. He rolls over in the warmth to find Ron still sleeping. Harry watches lazily as the early rays catch on Ron's bright hair. Harry smiles in contentment, and cozies back into his covers, the soft, worn sheets cuddling his naked body. Breakfast smells are reaching their fourth floor perch, and Harry detects cookies being baked for the family Christmas party, only two days away. 

Lying in bed in just his skin is a luxurious experience, and Harry's reliable-as-fuck cock starts to perk up, remembering Ron's, and his own, spectacular wanks last night. Harry would pay some serious gold to see Ron's cock hard and ready, spurting come on Ron's stomach, maybe shooting it up to his chest and chin. Damn, Harry's stupid prick has more than come to the party again. He'd best get out of bed before another wank takes over his brain.

Harry pulls his covers back, and just as he swings one bare foot to the floor, he meets Ron's open eyes. Harry's morning wood is in the open between them, and Ron's gaze zeroes right in. Harry somehow resists the instant urge to cover up – he needs to see what will happen next. There is a frozen pause. Harry's second leg slowly joins the first, and Harry sits up straight.

"Morning, Ron," Harry finally says.

Ron's eyes snap up to Harry's, and he turns bright blazing red in the morning light. Harry can't help but smile, but tries not to make it mocking. He's not feeling mocking; he's feeling incredibly Turned On, with a side order of Affection, thank you very much.

"Sorry, Ron. I've gotten in the habit of sleeping nude now that I have my own place," Harry lies. He gets up and walks over to his trunk, bending over, his bare backside displayed to Ron, pulling out his clothes for the day. His bravado suddenly leaves him and he pulls his pants and trousers on quickly, and glances over at Ron, finding him stunned and speechless, apparently paralyzed. "I'm going to the loo and then to get some breakfast. See you down there."

Ron opens his mouth but nothing comes out, and Harry flees.

Harry's head is spinning, and his cock is pushing on his trousers. Merlin's falcon on a stick, was that interest? Ron's expression didn't look like revulsion, or indifference. He hadn't thought that anything like that was a possibility, but maybe there is a bit of experimentation left in lady-loving Ronald Weasley. Harry would love to take his numerous fantasies further, but if Ron's reaction to any advances is negative it could threaten their friendship, which is unacceptable.

Harry finds the loo empty, and locks the door, quickly pulling his pants and trousers down and off. He examines himself in the mirror. Respectable, definitely, thick and solid, and ready for action, dammit. He gives his stubborn hardness a bit of a slap, and breathes out in frustration. He has to wank; there is no way he can go to breakfast with this boner. 

He turns on the water, and spits into his hand, quickly slicking his cock. Despite coming only a few hours ago, he is more than ready to pop again. Shit, just imagine if he had played with himself just now in front of Ron. What if he had grabbed his dick and spit a big, wet glob down onto it, and rubbed it in, while watching Ron watch him do it. What if he had reached behind with his other hand, fingering his hole a bit as he closed his eyes in mini-agony, and thrust his hips and shot his come out into the room right in front of his best friend. Harry's stifled moans fill the loo and he quickly shoots hot, breathless spikes, imagining Ron licking his lips and transfixed by Harry's hard cock, by his daring. 

As Harry comes down from his orgasm, and cleans up for the day, he is sure of one thing. He is going to have to find out if his interest is mutual before his Christmas visit to the Burrow is over. The friendship will just have to survive the shock.

~

(now for a bit of background, and a bit of passing the time before it's nighttime again…)

…Ginny's making the cookies, and looking a bit put out to be caught at a domestic task. Harry busies himself with toast and marmalade for breakfast, and prepares a cup of tea for himself, and another for Ginny just how she likes it. Ginny is the only person in the world who knows he's gay; since they were dating when Harry figured it out, she's the only person in the world whose business it is…or was…

…Harry is watching Ron at lunch. Ron is avoiding his eyes, and his ears are turning pink intermittently, and his usual voracious appetite is reduced to picking at his food. After a bit, Harry looks up to see Hermione watching him closely. Uh, oh. 

…Ron and Hermione aren't dating anymore, either, but Harry's used to thinking of Hermione as having a claim on Ron, and her shrewd look is making him feel guilty, but for what he is not sure…

~

Ron's squirming at the lunch table finally ends with a mumbled excuse and a quick exit. Harry soon follows him, and finds a closed bathroom door. He listens outside the door to water running and stifled, but telltale, moans. 

"What are you doing?" Hermione makes Harry practically jump out of his skin. "What's going on, Harry?"

Harry blusters a bit, but eventually confesses his interest in Ron. Keeping anything from Hermione is a lost cause, and anyway Harry is bursting to tell someone.

"The stalking is out of bounds, Harry," says Hermione. "You need to just talk to him."

"What if…"

"Oh, just tell him. You'll never know otherwise, and if, as I suspect, Ron is bi, you have as good a shot as anyone."

Harry's not sure if the quickening hope he feels is worth this acute embarrassment.

~

Even though Hermione's advice is the same as Harry's resolution this morning, Harry needs more evidence before spilling his guts. His brilliant strategic move is to parade around the room nude before bed. It's very arousing; huh, exhibitionist streak ahoy. The good news is Ron is definitely watching. 

The lights go down on a very weird day, and while Harry stays still and pretends to sleep, he is so wide-awake he feels like he'll be up all night. He knows Ron is awake too, and after a long stillness that is making Harry's muscles sore from the tension, he finally hears those telltale sounds again. There is the swish of sheets, the rhythmic soft pats, the delicious sounds of Ron's hand on Ron's cock. Mmm…cock, cock, Ron, cock…

Harry is so worked up that his own cock is in hand before he knows it. He squeezes at the base; in this state the slightest stimulation may push him over the edge. The sounds from Ron are getting faster-paced and more explicit, and Harry risks a shift in position and a quick lick of his palm. The silence from the other bed is sudden and ominous.

"Harry…" Ron's voice is quiet, but there is a bit of an edge to it.

Harry wants to pretend he doesn't hear, but he screws up his courage. Dammit, he's allowed to want things. "Yeah," he says.

"What the hell? How long have you been awake?"

"Long enough."

"Long enough? For what?" Ron's voice rises a half actave.

"Look, Ron…I know you know. I mean, you know I know. I mean…I've been listening to you wank. I'm sorry. I'm as hard as stone over here. I'm…interested, I'd like…a bit of fun. With you. But I don't want to freak you out. If you aren't into it, then just say the word, and I'll never mention it again, and we can both forget it."

Ron turns on the light. They blink across the room at each other. Ron bites his lip and Harry tries so hard to keep his nerve, to keep their eye contact. 

Finally, Ron speaks. "Harry, are you gay?"

"Uh, yes?" Harry didn't mean to make it a question.

"Harry, pull your sheet down."

Oh, god, oh god. Harry slowly pulls the sheet down his chest.

"That's right, show me your tits." Harry feels himself flush bright red, and Ron looks abashed but determined. Harry loves that look. Ron's gaze moves up from Harry's chest and back to his face. "Keep going."

Harry obeys, slowly pulling the sheet down and exposing his swollen, red cock before resting the sheet on his thighs. He's not sure what to do with his hands now.

Ron ogles him seriously. Harry can't remember ever being this turned on.

"Do you like to play with your tits, Harry?" Harry's eyes widen and a squeak escapes his lips. "Let's see it, then."

Oh, Merlin, yes. Harry's fingers reach his nipples, and scratch over the erect nubs. He arches his back, pinching and pulling his nipples a bit, then more than a bit. Harry feels so exposed, but nothing will make him stop as long as Ron is playing along with the best game ever. If Ron is a tit man, Harry is fine with it.

"Come here, Harry." Harry hurries over to Ron's narrow bed. Merlin. Ron opens his covers and Harry reaches down to lock their lips in a hungry kiss on his way into the bed and Ron's arms.

Ron has grown into a taller, bigger man than Harry, and his lovely cock is in proportion. They lie in the small bed, hands exploring, Ron's pajamas hitting the floor. Ron's fingers make their way to Harry's nipples, which are becoming a bit sore in a very good way. Obviously, a tit man. Harry ruts against Ron's thigh. Heaven.

"Harry, turn over." Harry complies, his flushed face resting on Ron's pillow. Ron looms over him from behind. He spreads Harry's legs open with his thighs. He rubs his cock along Harry's bum, and the pre-come cooling in his crack makes Harry squirm.

"Your bum is sweet, Harry," Ron says, taking a bit of a pinch in the fleshy part. "I couldn't believe it when you bent over naked after we woke up this morning. I've been obsessing over your cock and arse all day. I had to wank before breakfast _and_ after lunch."

"Have…have you ever been with a man before, Ron? I thought you were only interested in girls."

"No, never. Never thought about it much until today, and right now it seems brilliant." Ron's cock is rubbing a sweet, sweet path right on Harry's hole, and Harry gasps. "What do you want, Harry?"

"Someday, maybe that, Ron." Harry turns over, looks Ron up and down. He crawls out from under Ron and kneels on the floor between Ron's spread legs. "I want to watch you wank, please, Ron. I want to watch you come."

Ron reaches for himself with one hand, and anchors his other hand on the top of Harry's head. Harry rests his forearms on Ron's thighs, his face close to Ron's magnificent jutting manhood. Yes, Harry calls it that in his head.

Harry licks his lips as Ron's fingers grasp and move up and down, twisting a bit on the upstroke. Harry interrupts Ron's progress to lick his cock up one side and then the other, slicking it up nice and shiny. Ron groans and spreads his legs a bit. Harry's face is so close, he can't help it, and Ron's musky smell permeates his senses. His own cock is full and aching, and Harry wraps his hand around it with a groan.

As Ron's motions speed up, Harry risks a bit more, and tongues Ron's slit, letting a bit of saliva wet the head and Ron's fingers. It doesn't take long after that. In a very short time, Ron comes, and Harry closes his eyes but doesn’t move on Ron's warning, and the spurts hit Harry's lips and face. Harry is overwhelmed by the pungent smell. He tastes a bit, licking on the corner of his lips. His arousal peaks and he buries his wet face in Ron's crotch and breathes, bringing himself off to a shattering orgasm. When he is sensible again, Ron is stroking his hair. 

Ron reaches under Harry's chin and pulls his head up. He tenderly wipes the come off his face with his pajama bottoms, and then cleans up the rest of the mess on himself and Harry. He pulls Harry into his bed and tucks him under his arm. Harry rests his head in the crook of Ron's shoulder and sighs.

"Harry, you kinky sod. Looks like you enjoy a bit of come."

Harry laughs. "Yeah, I like it. Your come was great," he tells Ron's chest. Pausing, he then adds shyly, "Loads of other places I want you to put it, too, if that's what you want." His prick twitches against Ron's hip.

"It? My come or my cock?"

"Both. Definitely."

"Okay, right. I'm in. Who knew you were such a brilliant, kinky wanker, or that I would get off on it?" Ron's voice is low and aroused, but amused. "Tell me about all the places I can put my come, Harry."

Yes, nineteen is going to be a very good year.

~

The End.


End file.
